


Lonely

by drpinkky



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Sharing a Bed, it Sucks to be a widow, its a little heavy on the hank mentioning in the beginning but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 04:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16967814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drpinkky/pseuds/drpinkky
Summary: The one thing no one ever tells you about being a widow is how very lonely it is.





	Lonely

**Author's Note:**

> this happened bc i got the phrase "intricate rituals" stuck in my head.

The one thing no one ever told Cordelia about being a widow is how _fucking_ lonely it is. 

Early in her marriage to Hank, they almost never parted, and when they did, as time went on, Cordelia knew he would come back to her. Even when they were separated, even if the divorce had gone through, Cordelia knew Hank would’ve still been around, that he’d find some reason to swing by every so often. 

Having a person like that should be a kind of comfort, if only as a reminder that you’re not alone in the world.

His existence would have been a comfort, had he not been a witch hunter. Had he not cheated. Had he not betrayed Cordelia on so many levels. But now he’s dead, and Cordelia had never felt so alone. 

In the day, Cordelia could distract herself from the loneliness with her girls, with the greenhouse, hell, even with her mother. At night though, it grew unbearable. When Hank was traveling “for work,” Cordelia at least knew he would come home sometime. He would slip into bed, make just enough noise to wake Cordelia up and let her know he was there. He’d kiss her on the forehead and hold her until she fell asleep again. His presence made her feel safe. Loved.

After all, he did love her, right?

The question gnawed at Cordelia as the night wore on and made his permanent absence more pronounced: a cold spot at her back, as though his ghost lay where he should be. Had he not lied to her so many times. 

Her anger at his betrayals alternated with self-doubt, as though maybe there was some way she could have fixed this, or avoided it. Questions swirled in her mind.

_What if I had been a better wife?_

_What if I hadn’t reacted to the vision of his affair in that way?_

_What if I hadn’t been so stupid as to marry him?_

But she loved him, once. Hadn’t she? It was why she married him, after all. 

_Would he have killed me?_

That question weighed heavier than the rest. The answer, Cordelia knew, was a resounding yes. If not by Hank himself, then by another, using his information. 

_Could I have changed him?_

That question opened the door for a flood of new, more upsetting questions, and Cordelia knew she wouldn’t get to sleep tonight. She tossed and turned for a while until she glanced at the clock. It read 4:04 AM. May as well make the most of this insomnia and get a jump on her day, she decided, and rolled out of bed. She shuffled over to her armoire and selected a white button-up and a pair of black slacks. As she dressed, she decided to forgo an early breakfast in favor of trying to find something to occupy her mind. 

Cordelia padded down the stairs and ended up in a living room. The books offered an enticing distraction, so she selected a leather-bound tome with intricate decoration on the spine, then settled on one of the sofas. 

Though she lived at the Academy for most of her life, Cordelia had never realized just how uncomfortable the sofas were. _It’s the kind of discomfort one only notices_ , she supposed, _when one is up far too late._ She shifted until she was on her side, stretched the length of the couch, pressed as tightly as possible to the back cushions. The position still wasn’t comfortable per se, but leagues better than before. The book she chose turned out to be much duller than anticipated, and she would have gotten up for another, had she not just found a decent way to lie on the couch, and had her eyes not felt so fatigued. She set the book on the ground and shut her eyes. _Just for a moment._ After all, there was still plenty of time before the day started. 

The next thing Cordelia knew, an unexpected jolt of alarm shot through her, in response to a sudden weight placed on her legs. She sat up and looked around, expecting the worst, only to see Misty standing next to the couch. The tassels of the shawl draped over her shoulders bounced as she moved. Something dripped from the mug in her hand and into a puddle on the floor as she babbled out an apology. 

“Miss Cordelia, I am so sorry for this. Usually no one’s out here this early, and I like to watch the sunrise through the windows, and drink tea, and I sit on this couch, and I wasn’t expecting you to be here, and-“

“Misty, Misty, it’s fine,” Cordelia cut in. She reached toward Misty to grab her free hand, anything to comfort her. “In all fairness, I don’t usually sleep out here.”

Misty smiled at that. “Still, I shoulda looked before I just sat on you,” 

Cordelia chuckled. “It happens sometimes. Here, sit.” She lifted her legs so Misty had space to sit, then lowered them to Misty’s lap once she was settled. 

“Aw, shit,” Misty said as she went to take a sip of her tea.

“You didn’t spill any of your tea on yourself, did you?” Cordelia asked, concerned.

“Nah, just most of it’s on the floor,” She blotted at a dark spot on her dress with the shawl.

They sat in silence for a moment. Misty drank what was left of her tea as Cordelia tried not to watch. She savored the seconds she shared with Misty, as time with her was time Cordelia didn’t feel so overwhelmingly lonely. Misty wasn’t just a distraction from the loneliness. Misty chased it away, filled the aching void in Cordelia’s heart, and Misty didn’t even know. Her smiles, her voice, her touches, all warmed Cordelia in a way she didn’t know was possible. Sweet, wonderful Misty. Misty who had almost died because of Hank. Some of the warmth drained out of Cordelia and she sighed.

Misty set down her mug. “You alright, Miss Cordelia?” 

“It’s nothing.”

Misty hummed doubtfully and patted Cordelia’s ankle twice before resting her hand there. “C’mon now, you can talk to me if something’s eating at you.” Though there was no meaning to the gesture, the contact sent tingles up Cordelia’s leg. “How about we start with why you’re sleeping out here?”

Cordelia pursed her lips and looked away from Misty. “It’s hard to sleep,” she faltered and chewed her lip. She glanced back to Misty, who nodded encouragingly. “It’s hard to sleep when my bed’s so empty.”

An admission like that would have been met with derision from many other people in Cordelia’s life, but Misty just gazed at her with compassion filled eyes. She traced circles on the inside of Cordelia’s ankle with her thumb. 

“I wouldn’t mind,” she said after a moment. 

“Mind what?” Cordelia asked. 

“Sharing your bed. If it’ll help you sleep, I mean.”

Even with her exhaustion, Cordelia doubted if she’d actually be able to sleep with Misty in her bed. No, she was far more likely to spend the rest of the night awake, just reveling in her presence. 

Cordelia didn’t want to admit it, but that doubt made her nod. Misty lifted Cordelia’s legs off of her lap in order to stand, then offered her hands. She pulled Cordelia to her feet and led the way to her room. 

“There’s still three hours till your day starts, Miss Cordelia. That’s enough time to get you some decent rest,”

Misty’s gentle grip on her hand sent heat up Cordelia’s arm, only tempered by the cool metal of the rings on Misty’s fingers. From the moment they’d met, Misty made Cordelia feel like she was on fire, and not just because of the vision. Misty’s unwavering kindness provided a refreshing change from the usual atmosphere in the Academy, and her complete trust in Cordelia’s abilities took Cordelia by surprise. No one had really believed in her like that, and from there, Cordelia’s appreciation for Misty only grew. Cordelia treasured their time together, and moreso cherished those little touches they shared. But if those touches were enough to set Cordelia alight, what would sharing a bed do to her?

The answer to that question was not as dramatic as Cordelia feared. In fact, fatigue took over as soon as she stepped into her bedroom. She slid into the bed without a care for her soon to be wrinkled clothes. She bit her lip when the mattress dipped with Misty’s weight, but when her arm encircled Cordelia, there was no fire, just a pleasant, comforting, warmth. When Misty pulled her close, Cordelia felt safe. Safer than she’d felt with anyone else, really. When she turned over and shifted closer to Misty, close enough to hear her heart beating, she felt loved. Even though neither broached the subject, or anything remotely near it. And when Misty moved so Cordelia’s head was on her chest and her fingers could comb through Cordelia’s hair, she felt warm.

Cordelia knew they had to talk about this, how Misty felt so right, and can they keep doing this, but not now. Now, she was drifting off to sleep in Misty’s warmth, and into the best three hours of sleep she’d ever had. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on twitter and tumblr at DrPinkky!


End file.
